The Good Fight
by a.k.a.-ashley
Summary: The first thing he sees as he rounds the corner is the terrified expression on Peyton’s face, and then he sees the gun.


**The Good Fight**

He feels the cold steel of the gun press tightly into his neck, and when he swallows hard he can feel the metal bob up and down his Adam's apple.

The red and blue lights flashing across his face are disorienting as his eyes dart wildly between the ten police officers crouching behind their parked cars screaming at the man who's holding the gun to his neck. James pushes the gun tighter into his neck, and Lucas thinks for the first time since this whole mess started, that he might die tonight.

He hears James scream something back at the officers, a demand, he wants to be allowed to walk away or he's going to pull the trigger. The gun is so close to his head that Lucas hears the hammer of the gun click into place, he's going to pull the trigger.

Lucas squeezes his eyes shut and there's a brief flash of blonde curls before he hears the gunshot.

_Two Hours Earlier…_

Lucas wipes down the last of the café tables and checks his watch, ten minutes until closing. It's been an unusually slow night, with his mom out sick, and the last customer making his exit fifteen minutes earlier. He throws the damp dishrag over his shoulder and pulls the worn paperback from his back pocket, and settles into a seat at the counter.

He's only three paragraphs in when he hears the bell above the door chime.

"We're closing." He says over his shoulder without really turning around, hoping that the cold shoulder will keep him from having to make a pot of coffee.

He's about to turn around when he doesn't get a response but he feels an arm snake around his midsection and a pair of soft lips press a kiss to the sensitive patch of skin on the nape of his neck.

He spins the seat of his stool around and comes face to face with Peyton Sawyer. He can't help the familiar smile that creeps slowly across his face when he sees her.

"Hi." He says softly, tilting his head slightly as he leans his elbows on the counter behind him.

She returns the greeting and leans forward to kiss him again, this time on the lips. When she pulls away she takes a look around the café and notices its lack of occupants. "Where are all the customers?"

"They weren't tipping very well so I told them all to get lost."

She smiles at him and then comes forward to stand in the space between his legs. "Does that mean you saved me a piece of blueberry pie?" She leans forward and braces herself on the counter with her arms on either side of his body, her mouth grazes his and she lets her lips linger briefly, teasing him.

"It's back in the refrigerator."

"Good." She says, springing herself from the counter and heading back towards the kitchen, tossing a knowing glance at him from over her shoulder.

He catches her just as she's about to open the refrigerator, he twirls her around so she's facing him and presses her back against the cool glass doors. There's a playful growl low in his throat as he kisses her hungrily. And then her hands are in his hair, pulling his mouth down harder onto hers. He runs his hands along her back and her t-shirt rides up in the back, pressing her exposed skin to the icy condensation on the glass. She inhales sharply, the breath catching in her throat. She pulls away and stares at him breathlessly.

"How much longer until you can get out of here." Her lips are swollen, and her fingers are hooked into the belt loops on his jeans pulling his waist tightly into hers.

"I just need to lock up, don't you want that pie I had to save you?" He leans in and whispers into her ear. She can smell his soap as she breathes him in, hidden under the scent of coffee that permeates his skin.

"Yeah, the pie can definitely wait." She flashes a smile before his mouth is on hers again. His hips grind sharply into hers, she grabs a handful of his shirt and holds on like he might vanish if she doesn't.

The gentle chime of the door sounds unusually harsh as it interrupts their very private moment. She groans into his mouth as he pulls away and checks his watch.

"Dammit." He mutters. "Peyton, um, could you handle that customer for me?"

She's about to question why when she follows his eyes down towards his jeans. She laughs and kisses him quickly. "I'll leave you and little Lucas alone so you can compose yourself, but then we're out of here."

Lucas leans on the counter, takes a few deep breaths and then he hears something he shouldn't when there is a customer out front. Silence.

The first thing he sees as he rounds the corner is the terrified expression on Peyton's face, and then he sees the gun.

The man holding the gun is waving it around wildly, telling her he wants all the money through gritted teeth. He's wearing a three-day-old beard and a hooded sweatshirt. Lucas can feel his heart sink as he watches Peyton struggle to open the cash register.

The only thing crossing his mind as he heads for Peyton is that he has to protect her, and before he can register what's happening he's standing in front of her and staring down the barrel of a gun. He can feel her gripping the back of his shirt, as he ignores the man's angry yelling and concentrates on opening the register.

When the drawer slides open Lucas grabs all the bills and shoves them into the small bag and hands it back over to the anxious man. He points the gun at Lucas one final time, telling him not to call the cops and then turns to leave.

The pounding in his chest is unimaginable, and he struggles to catch his breath as he turns to grab Peyton. Her curls are wrapped around his fingers when he hears the man curse loudly. Lucas turns to see the flashing red and blue lights bouncing wildly off of the front of dark buildings.

He tries not to panic and picture all the different ways this night could possibly end, he won't let his mind go there. Instead he just holds tight to Peyton, whispering in her ear that everything is going to be okay and hopes that he won't be made into a liar.

The man locks the front door with shaky hands. The gun is still in his hand as he scratches his head and paces the short distance of the room. "Shit. Shit."

Lucas can see a squadron of police cars parked out front and a dozen officers taking shelter behind their cars, their weapons drawn and ready for whatever might happen.

Lucas swallows hard before attempting to speak. "Look man, why don't you let me and her walk out of here? They might go easier on you if you released us before anyone gets hurt."

He turns toward Lucas and gives him a cold smirk. "Nobody leaves. You and your girlfriend are along for the ride. Get behind the counter." Peyton is rooted to the ground from equal parts shock and fear, and when she doesn't move he puts the gun directly in her face. "I said get behind the counter."

Something inside him snaps and Lucas lunges for the man's hands, pushing them aside and putting himself between the gun and his girl.

"Big mistake." The man sneers and presses the barrel of the gun into Lucas's forehead. He hears Peyton scream behind him and then he feels the butt of the gun being brought down hard into his temple. He hears the gun hit his head and then sees a splatter of bright colors a half second later.

He can feel warm trickles of blood streaming down his face like gentle red rivers, staining the collar of his t-shirt. Then his back is against the wall behind the counter and Peyton's face comes into focus in front of his. He presses his fingertips against the throbbing knot on his temple and winces in pain.

"Shit." He hisses through his clenched teeth while he continues to prod his throbbing temple.

"Here." Peyton says softly, pulling the dishrag from his shoulder and pressing it to his bleeding temple. The gunman paces in front of the counter, out of their line of sight so she leans forward and presses a quick kiss to his lips. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay." He nods. Peyton pulls the towel from his temple and inspects the gash. "You need stitches."

"Peyt, I'm going to be okay." He says as he takes her hand in his.

"What are we going to do Luke?" She can't mask the fear in her voice as she sits down next to him and pulls her knees into her chest.

"I don't know." He says, wishing he had another answer for the girl who has so much faith in him, maybe too much.

They sit with their backs pressed against the racks of clean, white coffee mugs for what feels like hours. The blood from his temple has dried in dark red streaks down his cheek, making his skin feel tight. The gunman, whose name they've learned is James, is staring out the window, hidden from view since he turned out every light in the café. He's calmer now, spending most of his time pacing and quietly cursing to himself. Lucas is grateful for the fact that he's pretty much ignored them for the last hour.

The phone rang about thirty minutes ago. It was the police. He couldn't gather much from James's one-sided conversation, but he made it very clear that he wasn't going to surrender. And the way James had stared at him, with cold, dark eyes when he'd said it sent a cold chill up Lucas's spine.

He's been holding tight to Peyton's hand since that moment, finding comfort in the warm skin beneath his palm. She's breathing quietly next to him, he counts the gentle breaths she takes and it all dawns on him. He looks over at her suddenly, her face partially obscured by the shadows, and he feels his chest constrict in a way that doesn't make him scared.

"Peyton, I have to tell you something." The words come out in a rushed whisper, and he thinks for a moment that she might not have heard him, until she turns towards him and the limited light manages to catch the tear running smoothly down her cheeks.

"I love you too, Lucas." She says quietly. It's the first time they've acknowledged the three words that have gone unspoken through their four-month relationship.

He feels his breath catch sharply in his chest, and he squeezes her hand tighter then leans in to kiss her softly on the temple.

"I'm going to get us out of this Peyton, I swear to you. I won't let anything happen to you." The words come out with a steely resolve, and he believes what he says for the first time this night.

He watches James pace back and forth across the floor of the café and something begins to brew in his mind. It makes his palms sweat thinking about what he plans to do, what he has to do, but looking over at the scared girl that he loves more than anything he knows he doesn't have a choice.

"Peyton, I'm sorry."

"For what?" She breathes, turning slightly so she can look him in the eye.

"For what happened to us in the past, for the way I screwed with your heart too long, for dating your best friend and tearing you two apart. I was stupid, I thought I knew what I wanted and all along you were right in front of me But if I had the chance to go back and change everything, I wouldn't do it because now I know that you are it for me. You are the one, the only one. Everything I am, everything I want to be, it's wrapped up in you."

"Luke, what's going on?" He knows that she can sense something is off, he can see it in her eyes which are clouded with fear and anxiousness.

"I love you Peyton. I love you." He squeezes her hand before standing quickly and calling for James.

James turns on his heel and points the gun at Lucas. "What do you want?"

"I might have a way to get you out of this." He tries to keep the scared shake out of his voice as he attempts to negotiate with a guy who just cracked a gun against his temple. Peyton's tugging on his sleeve, hissing his name through her clenched teeth.

"And how is that?" James asks, the words rolling off his tongue with icy venom.

"If you take a hostage, they'll have to let you walk."

"And can you guarantee this little piece of information?"

"I can guarantee it if the hostage you take is the Mayor's son." James looks dumbfounded at Lucas' admission. "Dan Scott is my father, and all those cops outside are going to know who you have the second we walk out of those doors."

"What's in this for you?" James asks, narrowing his eyes at the younger man.

"Only that I get to keep her safe." He looks towards Peyton, and sees that she's a mess of tears as she silently pleads with him through red-rimmed eyes. He ignores the sinking pit in his stomach as he looks at her, and turns back to James.

"Give me a minute to get ready, and then we're going." James sulks away, leaving Lucas with trembling hands and a sobbing girlfriend.

When he kneels down beside her she refuses to meet his eyes. "I don't want you to go out there, you don't know what could happen."

"I know that this is the only way to keep you from getting hurt. If something happened tonight Peyton, if it all went horribly wrong and I lost you, I would never be able to forgive myself. I have to do this, for you and for us."

Peyton cups his face lightly in her hands and kisses the swollen cut near his temple. "You're all I have left in this world Lucas Scott. Promise me that if you walk out those doors, you're going to come back. Promise me Lucas."

"I promise. I love you Peyton."

"You, lets go." James motions with the gun, and after a hesitant final glance at Peyton, Lucas stands and walks towards him. James leads him to the front doors before pressing the gun into his back. "I didn't mean for it to happen this way, and I don't want anyone to get hurt, but if you try to screw me over out there I will shoot you."

Lucas stares out of the glass door and watches the flashing lights illuminate the quiet street. He counts at least five police cars, there's a news van parked behind a barricade of yellow police tape, and he prays that his mom isn't watching the news.

James pushes him forward and yells at him to move, like they're soldiers being thrust into battle. A blast of cold air knocks the breath out of his lungs as Lucas is shoved through the café doors into the chilly, autumn night. Ten guns are suddenly trained on Lucas, and the one in his back is swiftly shoved into his neck. He raises his hands into the air, in that universal sign for 'please don't shoot me, I'm the hostage'.

James screams, "Don't shoot. Don't shoot." He pushes Lucas forward until they're standing on the edge of the curb. "Tell them who you are." He spits out angrily through his tightly clenched teeth.

"I'm Dan Scott's son, please don't shoot." His voice cracks as he yells towards the officers, he's eighteen years old and he's on the verge of breaking down into tears in front of a crazy man with a gun and a dozen police officers. He just wants to go back inside, hold Peyton's hand and believe everything is going to be all right.

"I just want to walk away, let me walk away or I will shoot him."

The lead officer, with his gruff voice and bullhorn, decides to try and bargain with Lucas's freedom. He refuses to do anything until James lets Lucas go free. When James refuses, the two men go back and forth in what feels like a very dangerous game of pong. Lucas can feel him becoming angrier with every dismissal of his demands; at each further push of the gun tighter into his neck he realizes that James knows he isn't going to get away. And he becomes a little more desperate with each passing minute.

He hears James scream something back at the officers, a final demand, he wants to be allowed to walk away or he's going to pull the trigger. The gun is so close to his head that Lucas hears the hammer of the gun click into place, he's going to pull the trigger.

"Guess your plan didn't work out so well." James mumbles coolly.

Lucas squeezes his eyes shut and there's a brief flash of blonde curls before he hears the gunshot.

He doesn't realize he's falling until his back hits the ground, knocking the wind from his body. Everything suddenly feels like a poignant montage at the end of a movie as he climbs shakily to his feet. The officers run towards him in what feels like slow motion, someone asks him if he's hurt and motions towards the blood on his coat. Sticky, red drops cover his right arm, but it doesn't belong to him. He turns to see James's lifeless body sprawled on the sidewalk, his blood pooling in an uneven circle beneath his neck. He stares at the mess beneath his feet until an officer pulls him gently away. He feels detached from this moment as if it isn't really happening to him, and he suddenly finds himself wondering what music would be playing in the background of his poignant ending montage. He'd let Peyton pick, she'd know the perfect song.

The thought of Peyton breaks him from his trance and he finds himself running back into the café. He finds her huddled behind the counter, in the same spot he left her. She has her face buried in her knees; he sinks down beside her and lays a hand on her blonde curls. She looks up suddenly, and when she sees that it's him she starts to cry as she wraps her arms tightly around his neck.

"I heard the gunshot, and I was so scared that I was going to walk outside and see you on the ground. I just couldn't do it."

"I'm okay Peyton, we're both going to be okay." He holds onto her tighter than he ever has before, thinking that if he lets go it all might fall away, like it almost did tonight. "I told you I'd come back."


End file.
